


you and i, we all bleed red

by jack merridontme (luckystrike)



Category: Lord of the Flies - William Golding
Genre: Gen, M/M, the alternate title for this was 50 Shades of Red by the way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-27
Updated: 2013-09-27
Packaged: 2017-12-27 19:00:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/982473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luckystrike/pseuds/jack%20merridontme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whenever he saw Jack, he saw red.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you and i, we all bleed red

Red was the color of the initial blush of sunset; it signified the end of the glamour of their first day. Among the brilliant streaks of orange and pink, the vermillion haze held prominence, staining the sky with an omen that lingered long after the poignant descent of twilight.

Red was the color of passion; of flushed cheeks and eager hands and sweat-slicked skin that burned when they came in contact. Their touches, though initially hasty and hesitant, usually left a niggling heat that never truly dissipated even when their intimacy grew fervent and intricate.

Red was the color of fire; of a shining yet fleeting ray of hope and flickering flames that simmered pitifully into ashes and only seemed to rise when their tempers did.

Red was the color of anger; of scorching resentment and icy grudges and a certain sense of recklessness that only spiraled irrevocably into recalcitrance.

Red was the color of rebellion; of that same innate defiance that sang in his veins as they argued relentlessly, chests heaving as they tried to ignore the smart of the other’s words.

Red was the color of blood; of trails of carmine that leaked out of the pigs he was so damn obsessed with and the flecks of scarlet that tainted the sand and littered the broken bodies now lost at sea.

Red was the color of power; of military uniforms worn by authoritative adults and of the hard, angry lines on the mask he adorned with the sole purpose of domineering and conquering.

Red was the color of aggression; of the violent, brutal tactics he often resorted to when he didn’t get want he wanted and the suffocating air of officiousness he carried himself with.

Red was the color of ambition; of his eventual, yet foretold, usurpation and of his hair as it glinted when he rose to his full height and donned a smirk that spoke volumes about his superiority.

Red was the color of the haze that swam over Ralph’s vision as he ran, the gut-churning motley of sheer terror, confusion, panic and betrayal stinging his eyes; and not even the hot, bitter tears spilling down his filthy cheeks were able to wash the hellish tint away.

So when the darkness, that same sweeping, inky nothingness sought to claim him, he’d let it stole over him, if just for the briefest of moments, so he wouldn’t have to feel the heat; of the fire as it ravaged and licked at the remnants of the island, of Jack Merridew’s burning, inscrutable gaze, and of the ferociousness of the monster that lurked in each man’s heart.


End file.
